Bookshelf

The books on my shelf are my tattoos. The covers are comforts and windows to my mind. They are a display of my thoughts. Thoughts that run rampant in a dizzying spiral suddenly have points in space and time. My thoughts have buckets in these books. My questions have answers and the answers create more questions. 

The shelf in my mind is messy indeed. The ideas and memories and ambitions are scattered like papers shoved into random spaces. One day I retrieve a piece of paper with a verse in my curse. I don’t remember writing it, but it’s honest and true. Sometimes, it’s just a to-do. 

These walls. These walls confine. These white walls box me in. I’m trapped. I can’t breathe. I can’t get out a sentence. One single line. 

Time! 

Oh! How easy art would be if time I could not see! 

How beautiful it is to follow dreams without the sting of death within. 

How hard it is to work towards a goal so hidden, if indeed it exists at all. 

Pay the bills, flush it down, eat your lunch and it’s dinner now. The night is quiet, but not my mind. 

I pace and pace and cannot find. 

I can’t decide. 

Throw art away to survive, or kill the thought and slowly die.

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I’m back.

Hello my friends! It has been along time.

I’ve revamping this blog to hold myself accountable. Well, really I’m hoping you all will be commenting and asking for updates on certain things, but I’m not even sure people blog anymore.

I have a question for you: What are your thoughts on having an alias when publishing work? In todays political climate and social media pile-ons, I worry that somehow the art itself will be thrown to the side because of political biases people cling to. Is this a worry for any of you?
Perhaps you’re thinking, “Ew, what political mumbo jumbo does this no-name ascribe to?”

I guess that thought is natural. But also, who cares? Since it’s on my mind, perhaps I’ll test it by putting it out in the open. I think both the left and the right are arguing over who should control the decisions in your life. I believe that the decisions of you life should be, well, your decisions.

That’s enough of that. Let’s get to the writing!

Since I’ve been gone, I’ve written 59 000 words of my first novel. It’s still at a draft stage with a lot of work et to be done on it. I’ll post little sections now and then to mark my progress, but so far I’m happy. Well, by happy I mean frustrated, exhausted, self-loathing and stupid. Yeah, that sums it up.


But nevertheless, it’s going. All I can do is keep writing.

There is a great quote I heard the other day, it was at the end of the audiobook ‘grit’, so I won’t write it word for word. Basically, the author said writing is seeing how terrible you are every day, but going back daily to refine it.

I’m still a terrible writer, but i’m giving it my best. My best is most people worst, but hey, childhood trauma or something… No, I shouldn’t give myself excuses. I’m excited to share my work with you all soon.

I’m also excited to read more of your stuff and jump back into the world of blogging! It’s been ages!

Anyway, it’s good to be back.








Am I Evil ?

Creatures lurk within the trees,

Alive, unseen without the key.

Gushing winds hide whispering thoughts,

Of ghosts and spells and elvish sorts.

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Damp is the dark bark’s texture beneath your soft hand’s touch.

Gaze upon the majesty whose roots run deep in mud.

The oak was born before your breath and lives beyond your trudge.

All that gaze on ancient art will drown in endless blood.

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Yet, all that do or don’t,

Will suffocate in time.

We try to swim afloat,

But, drink the reaper’s wine.

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The evil thought you had tonight,

The one that gave a light excite,

Will be the ancient snake’s delight,

As much as spells occults recite.

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Written by Randall Evans

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This one isn’t quite done, but I haven’t posted in a while. I’ll be adding to it shortly.

Hearing Hearts

Once upon a calming sigh,
A gentle whisper flutters by,
Hidden just for one to know,
A secret code of hidden flow.

*

Sleeping deeply in myself

My heart knew not it’s parallel.

Never had a voice been heard

To wake it up without a stir.

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Unveiled in a rapid beat,

My chest starts pounding rhythms sweet.

Not a choice to start to fall,

But an answer to it’s call.

*

A treasure trove of blinding light,

It wasn’t sought, it came in night

Such was the day without control,

I met the one my heart will hold

*

Written by Randall Evans.

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I’m not done with this one, I’ll come back to it over the next few days. Comment below and let me know what’s going on in your world 🙂

The Valley of Longing

Down your feet take you,

Through mud and deep roots.

Clinging to branches,

As vision dilutes.

 

You slip and you fall,

But you’re ready to see.

The future self’s guidance,

Deep within thee.

 

The journey’s sufficient,

To make you fulfilled.

But right at the bottom,

Is quiet and still.

 

Nothing but clay.

Clay and decay.

The truth of your life

Brings pain and dismay.

 

No inner child,

No voice of the soul.

Yourself cannot guide you,

You’re down in a hole.

 

A selfish puddle,

Of tears in rain.

With the realisation,

You’re lost again.

 

The valley of longing,

Traps all the lost.

A prison organic,

Where children are tossed.

 

To thine own self be true,

Is a beautiful lie.

You’ll slip down inside,

And true truth will die.
*

Written by Randall Evans.

Mind Control

Beware the path of instant dread,

That easy stream inside your head.

Red herrings swoop and plague your brain,

“What could be? Is it me?

Conclusions falling cold as rain.

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Infant thoughts so soft and small,

While waiting longer for a call.

Clawing, scratching, desperate plea.

“What to do? Not a clue!”

Don’t follow your anxiety.

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Quenching thoughts of self destruction,

Will your way to their disruption.

Avoid the fall into the view,

“It’s all done! I’m no one!”

And choose to think anew.

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All you do is all you can,

Your mind’s direction needs a plan,

To stop the worry based on myth.

“I was true. Tomorrow’s new.”

Control the voices you live with.

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Written by Randall Evans

The One You Need

Strive to be the one you need,

But search your inconsistency,

For injustice that is thrown on thee,

Reflects your incongruity.

***

What are the traits you have in mind?

Are they the ones you left behind?

As you seek it’s true you’ll find,

Staring back your judging eye.

***

Double standards in your heart,

So within yourself is where to start.

Look deep within and strip apart,

The real sin inside your heart.

***

For kindness to find be kind.

If selfless you seek, rewind.

The values you must align,

Should shine from a place inside.

***

Seek the one who makes you whole,

And be the one you’d want to know.

So when connection wakes your soul,

Your seeking heart can be on show

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Strive to be the one you need,

But search your inconsistency,

Remember words graced from above,

Your neighbour as yourself you love.

***

Written by Randall Evans.

If you like it, hate it or appreciate it let me know in the comments below. I also love reposts… and chocolate chip cookies.

Hearts Don’t Beat

Is it ok to be happy ?

To feel a joy inside my heart?

Feeling soft and sappy,

Looking to a brand new start.

All my rhymes have rhythm,

That hardly change at all.

But crafting with precision,

Reflex not how in love we fall.

Messy, bright and typical,

My breathing tastes so sweet.

Inside I feel that I am full

Winter pierced with summer heat.

Hearts don’t beat when they’re in love,

They pump out warmth and light.

Endless streams of boundless dreams

Kiss a soul goodnight.

Written by Randall Evans.

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Please connect with me below and let’s crash the WordPress servers with the amount of writing we do !

Deflated

Deflated are my insides as I try to take a breath.

Just an empty shell as I refuse to get some rest.

I lack all the energy to beg and scream and yell.

The demon’s back to haunt me for I chose to ring his bell.
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My soul is missing from my breath, but I found him in this pen.

I can not see the light from here or any way to end.

My words are working magic now that I can’t feel inside.

Art will never save us all, it’s just a way to hide.
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I wish to live without the pain, but pain is what I am.

When suffering is self induced you give up on the plan.

Nothing matters in my mind, everything is gone.

Why’d I choose to ring his bell? The best of me was on!
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Hunger pains when I can’t eat.

Insomnia when I need sleep.

Poison pulsing through my veins

I can not stand the day to day.
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Will the demon let me go?

And if so, will I know?

How much evil lives inside

My deflated self that I must hide…
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Written by Randall Evans

Puppy Dog Eyes

I’m a spot in a puppy dog’s eye,

I, in eye, insignificant am I?

The tiny speck in the cutest face,

You notice not my rightful place.

I’m a nothing, if not the key,

A detail smaller than a flee.

But details add to masterpiece,

Piece by piece and none the least.

Have you seen what draws the spots?

The mystic pen that draws in dots?

The ink that hides reality,

Designed by divine majesty

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I’m a detail, nothing more.

To show creations biggest flaw.

That normal isn’t that at all,

It’s overwhelming art and awe.

Written by Randall Evans.